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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27848490">Roll over</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaynandlouis/pseuds/maschoi'>maschoi (zaynandlouis)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Monsta X (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Melancholy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vomiting, as is my brain, this is very ck centric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:00:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27848490</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaynandlouis/pseuds/maschoi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>there’s a notification from kihyun. he expected there to be.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Im Changkyun | I.M/Yoo Kihyun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Roll over</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is for myself but u r welcome to read too</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>they pass a car waiting to pull out with their brights on and changkyun has to blink a couple times. when he’s reoriented he looks back through the windshield to see they’re not quite in their own lane, but they’ve made it off the highway and onto the backroads already so he doesn’t bother saying anything. he takes another sip from his drink instead, gulping down a fourth of the pint before he stops.</p><p>he lets his head fall back, closing his eyes and letting the gravel road jostle the headrest into his neck. only a couple minutes pass before the tires hit dirt and the ride gets smoother, truck slowing down.</p><p>the swing into the driveway makes him feel a little sick, so he sits back up and pulls out his phone to distract himself. there’s a notification from kihyun. he expected there to be.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>changkyun doesn’t remember falling asleep, but the light from the big box tv hurts his eyes when he opens them. his left arm is asleep and there are two people in the recliner opposite the couch he’s currently hanging halfway off of. he blinks over at them, but it’s hard to tell exactly who they are. even if he could make out their faces in the light from the tv, he might not recognize them.</p><p>more people had showed up when they got back to the house than they’d expected and a lamp got knocked over. his brother had been pissed. the lamp culprit and his friends had left, one of them returning later with some shot glasses and a handle of something changkyun can’t remember as an apology. changkyun, as little brother of the host, had gotten to knock back as many shots as he wanted. he stopped counting around four, switched back to his pint when he’d started feeling feverish. </p><p>like always, after too much to drink on an empty stomach and no memory of getting where he’s woken up at, he feels refreshed. the sleep is always good.</p><p>“you got a cigarette?” he asks towards the recliner, clearing his throat when his voice comes out as a croak.</p><p>the smaller figure leans forward and drops hard to their knees on the ground between them. the person still in the recliner laughs. they crawl towards him, sitting back on their thighs just as he starts to get feeling back in his arm.</p><p>it’s a girl, maybe, pretty and way too young to be here. he wonders if she has school in the morning. she reaches in her back pocket, fishes around for a second. then she’s presenting a cigarette.</p><p>“light, too,” she reassures, bringing out a lighter.  changkyun takes both, lights up, exhales. he hands the lighter back and the girl hasn’t even climbed back up into the recliner before he’s holds onto it too hard, bending it right below the filter. he sighs, gives up.</p><p>more alcohol will fix his disappointment, so he goes looking for more. he finds it in the kitchen, another half pint on the table. it’s warm, but that’s fine. he looks at the time on the stove and it’s 12:11 am. he vaguely registers a conversation between his brother’s girlfriend and one of her friends, looks around until he spots them in the laundry room, one of his mom’s old decorative mirrors down off the wall and laying across the top of the washer. they’re huddled around it, their voices hushed. changkyun knows his brother must be asleep. </p><p>he tips the bottle back. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>he’s back where he started, waking up on the couch. the tv is off, there’s no one in the recliner. the headlights of someone backing out of the driveway flash across the room.</p><p>fuck. </p><p>there’s no way he can make it up the stairs in time, hurt ankle or not, and there’s nothing even resembling a bucket when he quickly scans the room. </p><p>he makes the quick decision that the front yard is his best bet and stands to make a clumsy, rushed exit. as soon as both his feet are on the ground, he can feel the bile hit the roof of his mouth. </p><p>the screech of the screen door, the sound of his bare feet hitting the cold concrete of the front porch, and then wet grass between his toes. the balls of his feet sink into the muddy yard just as he doubles over, watery vomit burning as it finally explodes from his mouth. it’s mostly liquid, bright red from the dye in the cheap gas station hooch he prefers in the flavor fruit punch. he’s sure it’s laced with his own stomach acid. </p><p>he can feel the second round making its way up his throat, bending over even further to brace for it. this one is even more violent, breaking off in a whimper when it’s finally stopped spewing from his mouth. his stomach hurts from clenching. </p><p>he’s too close, now, bent over like this, and he can smell it. it smells so sweet that he wretches again, thin, even more acidic vomit dribbling out of the corners of his mouth. </p><p>he knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help to watch the way it spreads out through the grass, soaking into the wet ground. he gags. </p><p>that’s enough, he’d like to stop now, so he turns around and focuses on the light thuds of his damp feet hitting the porch, the screech of the screen door, the static of the tv as he passes back through the living room. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>he passes his brother’s girlfriend’s friend, who in his more sober state he can vaguely remember someone referring to as jessie at some point tonight, as she’s coming down the stairs on his way up. he ignores her. </p><p>he makes it into the bathroom, slamming the toilet seat closed with a loud clank. he grimaces at the dark urine jessie hasn’t bothered to flush. </p><p>the bathroom smells like it, like the piss of someone who has been drinking for two days and hasn’t showered in just as many. it’s a smell changkyun is used to. </p><p>he sits down on the toilet seat lid and rips off some toilet paper, using it to soak up the sticky, acidic liquid that’s burning his chapped lips. </p><p>he thinks of kihyun’s lips, wonders if kihyun would kiss him right now, mouth nasty with his own bile and all. he thinks he probably would. </p><p>he knows kihyun would clean him up, would make him rinse instead of wipe his mouth. he’d take care of him in the most nauseating way, probably have to hold back gags from the mix of rank piss and changkyun’s breath, but he’d do it. thinking about it makes changkyun’s stomach churn all over again. </p><p>kihyun isn’t here, he’s never been here, never will be. he’s not in this part of changkyun’s life. he’s never been to this house, never met changkyun’s brother. never seen, smelled, listened to changkyun when he’s already dreading monday morning on a saturday night. </p><p>all this thinking has changkyun reaching for his phone. it’s not in his pockets, though, and changkyun wonders if it’s outside on the grass, beside a pile of his own sick, or if it’d fallen down in the couch while he was asleep. either option involves him making it back down the stairs, so he’ll leave finding it for tomorrow.</p><p>there’s a bath mat in front of the shower no one ever uses, so he throws his soiled toilet paper on the pile of garbage, cans and bottles that probably has a trash bin under it somewhere, and crawls over to the mat.</p><p>it’s comfortable, thick enough to keep the cold of the tile off his skin. he keeps his sweatshirt on, uses his hands as a pillow. shivers. the heat stopped working months ago, but it hadn’t seemed like a huge concern in august.</p><p>he closes his eyes, stretches his back, thinks about where kihyun’s probably sleeping, pretends he’s there. he’s out like a light. </p>
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